Deceit
by PlaidButterfly
Summary: After escaping Boz Pity, Asajj Ventress styles herself as a smuggler - one willing to risk giving a certain Ben Kenobi free passage.  One-shot, playing around with first person.


There's part of me on the desk in a jar.

I did not care where I was when it was all over, I just knew that it had to be undone. I wanted to be as far away from the Jedi and the fighting, and I wanted it to be over, and I wanted the anger out of my head. Neurosurgeons who advertise for hire and don't ask too many questions are not the most reputable people, especially in the outer rim. I think he took too much.

I know he took too much, actually.

But it isn't that bad. Even with the constant headache. Or how I can't hear very well out of that one ear. Or how my fingertips tingle. Or how I can tell I think more slowly, and learning everything while being so stupid seems so overwhelming. It's not so bad, that and many more. I'm not as angry anymore. And when I am angry, I take a sip of the Tarisian ale I keep around just for that purpose, because apparently the neurosurgeon cut out the part of me that could hold her drink, and I spend the night gagging in dry heaves. Then being angry is all right. I may be angry but it is hard to do anything while the room is spinning and my stomach is trying to escape, and if I am not angry at anyone, that counts nearly as well as not being angry at all.

It isn't that bad. Not at all.

There was enough money to be found for a ship, going through Dooku's old accounts. They could trace me by them but no-one has come so I don't think anyone cares. The ship was already called the Duskrunner and I couldn't think of anything better, so it is still the Duskrunner. There was enough for that, and a disguise. I am not sure if it is a disguise. I do not think the medrunner personnel realized how badly I wanted to be the opposite of what I was, when I told them to get me away from the war and from Dooku and the Jedi and everything. I was tired of being a Rattataki Sith. I am not yet a human Jedi. But there is makeup, and cream to bleach out the tattoos, and little pills that are full of something I am just enough allergic to, so they make my skin less bone-white, and a bit more rosy, even though I constantly sniffle and itch, it is something. And there is a wig, even though I don't understand hair, because it gets in the way, but they say it suits my face, and I think that is a compliment even if at times it feels like an insult.

Maybe I cannot be a human Jedi but I can be a half-human smuggler and that is good enough.

And I have hobbies. I found a double viol, and I am learning to play it. There is no-one to hear my out of tune notes or how sometimes I can't help crying at how frustrating it is and how I would have so easily grasped this before everything, and especially before part of my own brain went to sit in a jar of formaldehyde on my desk. You can still see the wires going into the flesh, and it dangles like some exotic jellyfish, floating. The surgeon called it stupid and mocked me for being so much of a coward that I needed an implant to make me angry. Sometimes I think he was at least a little right.

But mostly I talk to Master Narec, because the ship is empty otherwise, and talking to him makes it seem less so. I know that he is dead but that does not matter. I have told him that although I cannot be a Jedi he could be proud of, I can at least be something, or give him something in return for finding me on Rattatak and trying to teach me, so I practice the double viol.

Life is quiet out here and that is the way I like it.

I have only seen one other Jedi and I think she was hunting me as much as I was trying to avoid her. She knew me despite the makeup and the wig, and I knew her despite her being a few years older, an adult I suppose on technicality, and the missing half of a montral. She told me that I should start running because her old master was coming to finish her off, and that she wanted him to finish us both, because she thought it was a fitting end to all the battles, and that she hoped I died a painful death, because she hated me. I don't know why she thought I wanted to continue what we had in the Clone Wars. So I thanked her, which I think startled her, and I ran. The holonet news the next night was full of her scowling face, stories of how the Jedi menace Ahsoka Tano had finally been defeated. I watched and then the next morning picked up another load of quadrotriticale grain.

I was not expecting to see _him._

His hair was going grey but his lightsaber was the same color, and he was in trouble, very obviously in trouble. The stormtroopers did not know who they were dealing with, but there were very many of them and only one of him. I shot two - that was enough for him to finish the rest, and then the security camera.

"Thank you," he said after it was done. I knew the look: he was trying to see what sort of person I was, if I could be trusted. He thanked me, and started to tell me his name. Ben something, now.

"I know who you are, Kenobi," I blurted.

Did I, now?

"Yes, some of us don't forget what the Jedi did so easily." Please don't let him think I am scornful, please -

And he smiles. I relax. He asks me my name.

"Asteria Seljac." It is the first time it has felt like a lie. But he smiles, and I smile back. And he asks, how much would he have to pay for passage to Tatooine?

And I tell him honestly that for him, there is no charge.

He is a good passenger but it has been three days in deep space and I have not taken off the makeup or the wig or stopped taking the pills and I itch so badly, but more makeup is there to slather over my face as it is breaking out. There is only one bed and he immediately said he would sleep in the fresher but I convinced him to switch off, and tonight I sleep in the fresher, so at least maybe I can wash my face.

I smile a lot. I think that is the best way to express my gratitude. I have heard that humans usually use presents or things to eat, like cake, but I am not so sure that 'Thank You, General Kenobi, For All Those Times You Didn't Kill Me' will fit on a cake. Besides, I do not want him to know who I am. I have done a very good job hiding. Lying. Deceiving. I am not trying to be evil but it is what I have to do.

He meditates and I check the case where I keep my lightsabers, just in case, and lock it again, because he will know me by them. And then I go to find something to clean, or something to fix, because I do not know what to say to him even when he wants to talk.

I come back and he is holding the jar up to the light. He is frowning. He says, Asteria, we need to talk.

He knows. I know he knows. It can't be anything else.

"What of?"

Please don't look at me and see the woman who hated you. Please don't look at me and see the woman who wanted you dead. I have been good, I have been boring. I have almost given up my anger completely but fear is much harder, please understand, I have been trying.

Asteria, are you all right?, he says.

No I am not.

"Yes." I smile.

He reaches out. His hands are so very close, then one is on my upper arm. I think he is trying to comfort me. His hands are softer than I could have guessed. I cannot look him in the eye. Instead I stare at his beard. I still don't understand hair, but I wonder, what would it be like, the roughness of the beard and the softness of his lips, both together?

Asteria, are you all right?

"No." I smile. "But can we talk about this in the morning, please?"

Of course we can.

That night we both sleep in the bed, each wrapped in our own blankets. I am not surprised. He is a Jedi, a general, and a perfect gentleman. I am not surprised but I am a little disappointed though I am not sure what for. I keep myself awake too long listening to him breathe, and the little soft sighs he gives, and then when I turn around, the smell in his hair of his own sweat; I memorize all these things like they are important. I wonder if he is doing the same to me in the darkness and I feel like I am playing a game I don't know the rules to.

There are no good words, otherwise I would have told them to him. Please stay, I want to say, you are important. But there are no good words in Basic or Rattataki or anything else I know to describe what sort of important, or how very important it is.

So I stay quiet.

-*-*-

I do not remember falling asleep but when I wake up he is gone. He has guided the ship to dock and his side of the cot is still warm.

I yell his name and there is no answer. Outside it is a gritty, grimy spaceport that I want nothing to do with. I tell myself that I will find him, when I am ready, so I scrub off the makeup and try to relax, and I listen to the comm channel of the security forces, because slicing into the frequency is easy and it is a good way to figure out what is going on.

My head hurts. I realize it is the first time it has hurt since finding him.

There is chatter of a fight in the local cantina.

I am sure it is him. First I grab my blaster, then I tell myself that I will not take the coward's way out again. I will show him who I am and I will tell him, even if the words are not good enough.

The box that holds my lightsabers is unlocked when I find it. They are still there, but there is also a note. It falls to the floor. I crouch by it, afraid to pick it up for fifteen minutes, before I read it.

_Asajj,  
There is no need to deceive me. I know who you are. You are forgiven.  
-Kenobi_

And I weep.


End file.
